All Work and No Play…
Did I tell you the transmission went out on my Volvo? No? Well it did, and let me tell you: Cabin fever sets in 5 minutes after my wife drives off to work. I can see the taillights dimming as they give me their final Ha Ha. It's been in the shop nearly two weeks. Talk about distractions, I don't think I've done anything productive since. But then yesterday…
Backtracking. Two days ago, I did the unity thing with my writing group and submitted a short story for the Pacific Northwest Literary Contest. The problem? Mailing. It looked nice enough outside, light grey, patchy blue, typical. So, why is it when I head out the door to walk to the post office, the weather changes. Mind you I'm a good four blocks from home when it makes the decision to hail. Lovely.
So…Yesterday, after the transmission guy puts me off for another day, I poke my head out to study the sky. It's blue, no wind, non-threatening clouds in the distance. I'm off to town. Now my town is new, brand new, under construction, actually and there are obstacles to getting to the pack of strip malls that substitute for a downtown. There are fences to climb, private property to trespass, etcetera. You don't expect me to trod the meandering sidewalk, when I can get there as the crow flies. Crows.
That brings me to my point, I'm crossing a leveled plat, pocked with an intrusion of scotchbroom (thankfully not blooming), when off to my left a hawk sets off hunting. Big one, beautiful. I stop to ponder (does that even sound like me?). From my right, a murder of crows, more like an army, sets off in the hawk's direction. They attack it. Actually dive bombing and shit. Oh my god, the big bird is a fighter. The crows are thwacked and jabbed and pecked and (many other verbs for f**ked up). It kind of rocked. The crows were totally sorted out and retreated.
Thus, there are benefits to cabin fever.
Next Essay: How I Broke the Crystal in My Watch, or Timeless.
Backtracking. Two days ago, I did the unity thing with my writing group and submitted a short story for the Pacific Northwest Literary Contest. The problem? Mailing. It looked nice enough outside, light grey, patchy blue, typical. So, why is it when I head out the door to walk to the post office, the weather changes. Mind you I'm a good four blocks from home when it makes the decision to hail. Lovely.
So…Yesterday, after the transmission guy puts me off for another day, I poke my head out to study the sky. It's blue, no wind, non-threatening clouds in the distance. I'm off to town. Now my town is new, brand new, under construction, actually and there are obstacles to getting to the pack of strip malls that substitute for a downtown. There are fences to climb, private property to trespass, etcetera. You don't expect me to trod the meandering sidewalk, when I can get there as the crow flies. Crows.
That brings me to my point, I'm crossing a leveled plat, pocked with an intrusion of scotchbroom (thankfully not blooming), when off to my left a hawk sets off hunting. Big one, beautiful. I stop to ponder (does that even sound like me?). From my right, a murder of crows, more like an army, sets off in the hawk's direction. They attack it. Actually dive bombing and shit. Oh my god, the big bird is a fighter. The crows are thwacked and jabbed and pecked and (many other verbs for f**ked up). It kind of rocked. The crows were totally sorted out and retreated.
Thus, there are benefits to cabin fever.
Next Essay: How I Broke the Crystal in My Watch, or Timeless.
Comments